


Little Closer

by Ellenka



Category: Hunger Games Trilogy - Suzanne Collins
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-15
Updated: 2014-08-15
Packaged: 2018-02-13 07:13:00
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,840
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2141865
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ellenka/pseuds/Ellenka
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>What hunters would we be if we failed to catch each other?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> (just cleaning up old mess. no copyright infringement intended.)

**-just a little-**

"I almost forgot! Happy Hunger Games!" Gale plucks a few blackberries from the bushes around us. "And may the odds…" He tosses a berry in a high arc toward me.

I catch the delicious offering and bite down before finishing with a loud, affected, "…be ever in your favor!"

We burst out laughing at our attempt to mimic Effie Trinket, the maniacally upbeat woman who arrives once a year to escort two kids to their deaths.

It's a bad joke, but we still repeat it year after year, laughing off the reminder that the odds are  _never_  in our favor. Whether we get reaped or survive long enough to end up in the mines, our future is underground.

It's hard to think about that right now - under the glorious blue sky, with soft breeze in our hair and sunlight on our skin, and with miles of lush greenery separating us from our coaldusted prison of a district.

The breakfast we're ready to dig into is uncommonly luxurious too. Gale bought a small loaf of bread from the baker for only a squirrel, and Prim left us a lump of goat cheese wrapped in basil leaves to go with it. Gale cuts the bread and spreads it with the soft cheese, while I pick a handful of berries for us to share.

We settle in our hidden nook in the rocks, cramped but comfortable in each other's space.

Gale's body is almost as hard as the rock, all bones thinly wrapped in wiry muscle, but so much nicer to lean against. I'd taken off my hunting jacket to soak up the sun, but I'm even more aware of the warmth from my companion, seeping right into me through the worn fabric of our shirts. It seems to connect us somehow, and I catch myself thinking how damn precious the connection is.

Drawing my knees up to my chest, I settle back, my head falling against the top of Gale's shoulder, and feel him shift slightly to accommodate me.

_We all feel a little closer today_.

I meant something else back when I'd said it first - that we are all slightly more willing to help each other out, slightly more united against a common enemy. But I guess it applies to Gale and me too, even though there's hardly any  _closer_  us to go. We are used to sitting close enough to touch – our thighs aligned and arms brushing with every movement, to spending long, silent hours together and completely trusting each other while we are at it, to sharing duties and burdens as well as laughs and encouragement.

As if we were one in all but the physical sense, which is as scary as it is intriguing. Voicing a decision to change that would mean acknowledging things, it would mean saying  _this is what we have and this is what we can lose_. Gale is not saying anything either, he knows I don't want to hear it. Not when he has forty-two slips in the reaping bowl and I have twenty, and Prim has her first one, and even that is too much. Gale's not really mine because he can slip through my fingers any day, especially today, in just a few hours… but the futile desire to fight that burns deep, a mix of fear and need and possessiveness in equal measure.

_We_  are a promise with no guarantee of keeping, but sometimes I'm more afraid of letting it go unfulfilled than of fulfilling it.

I wonder if he feels like that too, if he wants to somehow fuse us together just because, just in case. I don't even know what exactly it is that I want. I have overheard girls at school talking about all kinds of things to do with boys. Even about Gale in particular. Of course they'd want him, with his looks and strength and unfailing devotion to his family. I've always hated that, but I always told myself I just don't want them to lure my hunting partner away from me.

I hate it still, even after I've come to believe he's not going to leave me for anyone, ever.

After all, why would he? They don't know him like I do. I know the sound of Gale's heartbeat and how it speeds up when I get close enough to touch, steadily thumping away the seconds of waiting for prey. My own always joins the rhythm. I know when he smiles genuinely and when he just puts on a grin to keep his siblings obliviously happy, or a smirk to charm people into giving him a better trade. I know when to argue and when to let him talk; I can read every twitch of his expression.

I know everything but what to do with him when we get a bit too close and the warmth of his body makes me tingle for more. I wish I had enough time to figure it out. I usually don't let myself bother, but the stress of today is different, shadowed by a menace that sends my nerves into an overdrive. We'll have to be back in the town square at two o'clock, and sign in with a bloodprint to assure the Capitol that our bodies ultimately belong to them. Then we'll have to stand and wait whether we'll be reaped apart and away from our world.

It seems especially beautiful today, with the valley under us sunlit and inviting, full of life to thrive on. I savor the sight, my body relaxed and content with the pleasant aftertaste of breakfast still lingering in my mouth. The moment feels too good to last and let's face it, it can't, but I don't want to care, at least for a few more minutes

I shift my head on Gale's shoulder, looking up at him. He is staring far ahead too, but his forehead is furrowed in thought.

"We could do it, you know," he says, very softly, without tearing his gaze away from the far horizon.

I don't think I have to ask, but I still do. "What?"

"Leave the district. Run off. Live in the woods. You and I, we could make it." He's finally turned to me, and the words brush my face. I breathe the prospect in. It turns the fresh air even sweeter.

"You know we can't," I remind him, automatically and unnecessarily.

"I know," he concedes. Running away with our families would be too risky – especially today, when our absence would be easily noted – and we'd never leave them behind.

It was stupid of him to mention, stupid of me to consider even for a second. So tempting, though… Then we'd have all the time in the world. To figure things out and everything.

But that's a luxury we can't afford.

In fact, we should have already gotten up and gone about our business, stocking up for the days when we'll have to kill lots of time by mandatory watching… if we are lucky.

"We'd better go. Hunting, I mean," I mutter, almost irritably.

"Yeah."

Gale hadn't bothered to pull away, his breath fans over my skin. Reinforcing my body's decision that leaving our warm and comfortable almost-embrace is the last thing I want to do. Gale can read me well enough to know that. I'm still avoiding his eyes, but end up staring at his lips instead.

Perhaps for too long, perhaps not for long enough, because he leans down and presses them against my forehead.

He moves to pull away after a brief, careful kiss, but I don't quite let him and stretch my hand to touch him – it's not like I should, but I suddenly  _have to_ , just to make the memory of his features more tangible.

Just in case. One has to be prepared for hard times, right?

Gale looks anything but fragile, with healthy sunkissed skin taut over chiseled bones, but I find myself touching him with utmost care, is if the moment could shatter if I make a wrong move.

We look similar to a certain extent, the colors of our eyes and hair and skin almost matching, but most people from the Seam resemble each other that way. So much that the Capitol announcers like to 'joke' about not being able to tell a pair of tributes from Twelve apart from the last year's unfortunates. To them we may be alike, but we are different enough when you care to look properly.

I'm close enough to see my reflection in Gale's eyes, framed with silvery irises. Just a tiny, fleeting imprint, but I like that.

I know Gale's features by heart, but touching his face is much more interesting than just looking. At first he seems stunned by the sudden display of affection, but then his face breaks into a grin, so wide and hopeful it almost breaks my heart. He hides it, then, turning his head and pressing his lips against my palm. His fingers close around my wrist, holding it like a tiny bird that had fallen out of its nest. Torn whether to take it or to put it back. I guess he should do the latter, return me to myself before I give too much away.

But he's holding on, and I can't bring myself to mind all that much. Perhaps I could both give and take, and everything will turn out okay.

"Catnip?" he mutters into my palm.

"Hmm?"

He gently pulls my hand away from his face, but doesn't let go. "If I started telling you how much you mean to me, and how much I want this to last, would you ever forgive me?"

It takes me a moment to process the question. Then I burst out laughing.

"No way," I choke out in between. "Don't you dare. Not a word."

"Good. Just checking." Gale's lips twist into a wry smile. As my laughter dies, I watch them carefully, their imprint still burning in my palm, on my forehead. There is something I do want to know, but how do I tell him?

"It's more than I could say anyway," he continues, cupping my face and lightly running his thumb over my cheekbone, just like I'd done to him moments earlier. I think his eyes tell me, more than I'd dare to hear, but I can't bring myself to break the contact. "So if I can't say a word, just remember this, okay?"

Gale leans in slowly, giving me all the time I'd need to stop him, but I don't, not until his lips touch mine and not after.

I hold onto him as tightly as I can, demanding more for every kiss I give and giving more for every kiss I get.

_It's just today_ , I keep telling myself.  _I need him just a little closer_.


	2. Chapter 2

**-just a lot-**

Reality pours back with gasping breaths, still pleasantly blurred at the edges.

For a moment, all I can see is Gale's old, familiar smile - it might look just a little better on just-kissed lips – then I pull back to see how far up the sun already is, and to remember how much work we still have to do.

"We really should go."  _Now_ , before I do something as stupid as to climb into his lap and squeeze him between my thighs and never let him go.

Gale drops his hands from my face reluctantly, his fingers ghosting along my neck, leaving tingling trails. "Okay. Where to?"

"Fishing. C'mon, I know a good place I haven't showed you yet." After that, I'll have only one secret place left – an actual lake with an old concrete cabin near – but that's too far away for today.

He raises his eyebrows and shrugs slightly. "Okay. Lead the way, Catnip."

I stand to gather our stuff and go, and don't question why he needs a minute to follow.

I start for a small pond, fed by a clear stream that spreads into a marshy area thick with arrowhead plants. Also known as duck tubers... or katniss.

Gale laughs heartily when I explain along the way, and keeps telling me how edible I look until I smack him.

"See, but that's what my father once told me," I admit between laughs. "As long as you can find yourself, you will never starve."

"Makes sense. Well, I won't be that lucky these days," he chuckles.

When we do pass a hawthorn bush, though, Gale plucks the end of a small, shadowed branch with a white cluster of late flowers, and tucks it into my hair above my ear. A thorn pricks my skin lightly, enough to sting but not to draw blood.

"But at least I suit you," Gale tells me.

I roll my eyes, but when he slides the backs of his fingers down my cheek and tilts my face up to kiss me, I'm happy to respond. I'd put my jacket back on when we got into the shadow of the trees, but Gale slips one hand under, its warmth spreading from the small of my back and coiling deep in my stomach. My lips move with his and my free hand idly caresses his chest, before settling right over his heart and pushing him away.

The preoccupation with each other is definitely slowing us down, and I silently scold myself for minding that much less than I should.

/

Luckily, we get a few good shots along the way, making up for the lost time, and our bags are already half full by the time we arrive at our destination. After setting up a net in hopes of catching some fish in the meantime, we wade into the sunlit shallows to gather the roots, laughing and occasionally splashing at each other. By the time we are done, most of our clothes are strewn along the grassy bank to keep out of harm's way or to dry. The underwear I'd left on is pretty soaked too, clinging to my chest and hips.

When I say we should go, Gale dives deeper instead, wading waist-deep into the clearest section where the current is strongest, and plunges under the cold water. I watch him emerge, comically shaking water out of his hair, and my eyes inadvertently follow the glistening drops sliding down his torso. I'd better not keep looking for too long.

"You coming?" I call to him.

But when he gives me negative shake of his head, I can't resist a sudden idea. I pluck an arrow-headed leaf and sneak closer. Gale watches me with a grin and retreats a bit, but doesn't try hard enough to get out of my reach.

"Hey, where's the spirit of the games?" I exclaim in another attempt at Capitol accent, and pretend to stab him.

Gale clutches my pretend weapon to his chest and makes a funny would-be dying noise, doubling over. We begin to laugh again, but the sound dies suddenly when he slides his hand down to my wrist. The leaf slips from my hand, and the sluggish current steers it from between our bodies and carries it away, a broken green arrow. I watch it go, turning away from Gale's gaze that's suddenly became too serious.

He holds my hand over his heart. "You don't have to stab your way in, Katniss. You are already in there."

"I... I know…" My voice barely makes it past my lips. It's a disconcerting thought, but hearing it makes me feel less trapped than I'd expect. Somehow, it sounds good. And safe. Why fear, when the tiny bit of freedom I can steal feels better with him around? So much better I'd want to trap him in my own heart too, just in case.

I can't do that for real, of course, but my body seems to have a few ideas of its own as to what I  _could_  do.

We are close, very dangerously so now that I fully realize how  _bare_  our bodies are. The last parts of our immediate world we haven't dared to explore yet, so clearly defined in the sunlight and so enticingly alive. Gale's skin seems to radiate heat even through the slick film of cold water, and all my instincts want to share it and add my own to the pyre. I bring my other hand up to his chest too, carefully splaying my palm over the smooth skin and hard muscle. His heart skips a beat, before starting so much faster as I move up along the pulsing vein on his neck to curl my fingers in his hair. Gale sure doesn't need me to pull him down, but he lets me do it, giving me the initiative.

We kiss like we aren't going to stop there, our bodies welding together as if it was the most natural thing in the world. After all, we are used to functioning in unison, and it seems to be working just fine now. Too fine, in fact, well enough to make me forget who we are and where we are supposed to return. And how complicated things can get.

Possibly... Probably... It's hard to think straight right now, entangled in Gale's taste and scent and warmth. Seeking a way out sure seems more of a hassle than staying right in there and never looking back… and never looking forwards either. Then things would be easy, something deep inside us would know exactly what to do.

I think I'm trying to fight my own instincts more than him when I squirm in his embrace, but Gale reacts anyway, pulling away just enough to let cold breeze onto my heated skin. I shiver.

"You okay?" The words come in a hoarse gasp and he looks a little dazed, obviously fighting an impulse to drop his lips right back to mine.

"Fine," I mutter, truthfully. There's nothing strange when I open my eyes, just us, just something I'd been trying to block out, and suddenly can't quite remember  _why_.

"Need to stop?" The three words seem to have cost him a great deal of effort. And restraint. Something we are both too used to, so much I can't help but wonder how it would feel to strip it away and toss it aside like another layer of ragged clothes. Just this once.

Perhaps I should pull back, but I lean forward instead, my forehead lightly bumping into his chest. My hands are resting on his lower ribs, hesitating between pushing away from him, and travelling along the lean tracks of his muscles, to the edge of his shorts hidden under the water. The downward course seems much more appealing.

"Not really. I just…" I shake my head against him. "We shouldn't… we are…"

"We are friends, Catnip," he reminds me. "I won't ask you for anything you don't want to give. Or make you do anything you'd regret." His hands slide down my arms to my elbows, gently but firmly holding me in place as he steps back. He kisses me once more, a light peck on the forehead, and lets go.

I don't even know what I want more, whether to give or to take… all I know is I will regret doing both, and might regret  _not_  doing both even more, if this chance turned out to have been our last.

"And if I do? … Want, I mean." My whole body seems to burn, even half submerged in the water. I can't quite tell what it is I want, all I know is that it requires being a lot closer. Closer than would be rational or wise, closer than we ever  _should_  get.

"Me?"

"Yeah. If you…"

"There's nothing I'd want more right now, trust me." His voice is a bit strained and deeper than usual, and I can tell he's fighting to keep his gaze focused on my face. He spreads his arms away from his body in  _come-and-get-me_  gesture, inviting but leaving the choice to me.

One last moment of hesitation later, I dive in between them, wrapping all my limbs around him like a living snare. The embrace is full of desperation and hunger, combined into a need I can't quite name. Some sort of anger too, and I'm more than willing to take it out on Gale, my nails all over shoulders and back. The deep groan reverberating straight from his lungs to mine assures me he doesn't mind at all. He pulls me flush against him, large hands splaying all over my back, cradling me close and caressing my skin. Slowly moving downwards and inwards, whipping up my desire with deliberate strokes and drowning me in sensations I've never even dreamed of.

Some awkward wriggling out of wet underwear later, there's just one last thing separating us. A little blood dissolves between us when Gale stabs through the thin veil of my own flesh, slowly pushing all the way in. I whimper and bite his shoulder in retaliation, clawing at his back. It hurts because it's the first time, and because it could be the last, and because I can't quite fathom how would we go on if it  _wasn't_. And something in my heart hurts even when the actual pain subsides, when the rawness and fullness of the connection feels as natural as if our bodies were always meant to become one...

_...and I don't want this time to be the last_.

We are quick and most careful; our hips moving with the rippling water, exchanging pleasure but nothing more. Everything else flows away with the stream as I snake my arms around Gale's neck, and he leans his forehead against mine, eyes hazy with fulfillment but devoid of promises.

There's nothing more to promise and nothing more to ask, not today.

After, I let Gale carry me ashore and curl in his lap, leaning against his chest. Warm, breathless and fleetingly content. Gale holds me as tightly as I hold him, the hammering of his heart drowning out whispered words I don't dare to hear.

_It's okay_ , I tell myself.

Whatever happens, we'll have this, a sweet moment of knowing how it feels to be as close as possible. Of knowing what we can become together.

Just in case.

Because what hunters would we be, if we failed to catch each other?


	3. Chapter 3

**-just because-**

A lot can happen in a few weeks.

A few weeks ago, Gale had been waiting for me here, with a smile on his face and an arrow-pierced loaf in his hands. Both my pace and my heart lightened at the sight, and for once, I let my tight self-control do the same. I let my slow-burning curiosity flare up, and in a moment that turned out to be both the first and the last, I let myself believe that I'm mine to give, and he is mine to take, and vice versa.

Just because we wanted to.

It was all that mattered for a moment, only  _not to matter at all_  mere hours later.

I had to volunteer to go where Gale couldn't think of following, because that would break a deal much more important than all our desires. We said our goodbyes, and I locked him in a deep dark place in my heart and forbade myself from reaching it as I focused on what laid ahead. I forbade myself from reaching it there even as I opened my heart to another, and picked the only path to return I could tread without getting irrevocably lost.

I came back as half a victor, polished and changed and injured and burned and repaired, not entirely the one who'd left, but not yet someone that would not want to reclaim who I'd been. For all the future painted in blinding Capitol colors, there were pieces of my past I missed too much, one more sorely than any other.

Gale and I have hardly spoken since my return, save for some thunderous flashing of eyes from a safe distance, some fake  _familial_  affection when in company, and a few words exchanged surreptitiously in a dark doorway.

"I couldn't have done it any other way. You know that. Not really," I'd whispered frantically, my words beating against the mask Gale took to regarding me through whenever someone else was looking. Nowadays there almost always was. Any other option would have torn me apart more, and would have been closer to playing by the Capitol's rules. I knew…  _hoped_  Gale could see that… whatever he was thinking about it.

"I suppose not." He was avoiding my eyes and I could tell he was angry, but not so much  _with_  me as  _for_  me, angry at everything that had been done to me, that I'd been forced to do. "Where does it leave you now?"

"I-I don't even know. Still playing when they are looking."

Gale nodded grimly and held my wrist for a moment, the warmth of his strong hand burning through my sleeve. Finally, he looked right into my eyes, the soft, dark stare stirring long-bottled emotions. "I miss you, Katniss. I know it doesn't really matter anymore, but I do."

"I know," I muttered, tugging my wrist out of his grip and brushing my fingers against his. I had no time to start explaining how much I missed him too, how much it no longer mattered what we both want, and how dangerous everything was, not even if I could find the right words. So I just held his gaze and willed him to understand, hoping at least my eyes were unchanged enough.

Suddenly, a light flickered on in a neighboring house in the Victors' Village, and we both flinched.

Gale had almost smiled at me by then, but he just pressed his lips into a thin line, gave my hand a tiny squeeze and took off.

Leaning back against the cold hard door, I lightly bumped my head on the wood to clear it. Maybe it was better that way. I was here, living and breathing, which should have been enough for both of us, and bathed in blood money that should have been a welcome perk. And however much I needed more to let Gale know I'm truly back… that had to happen in our place, on our terms. Not in a district swarming with reporters still chasing a star-crossed-lover act. Not in a district where he had to spend most of his waking hours underground, partly to make the charade that saved me from being buried underground (or ardently wishing I were) more believable.

/

Even though I no longer had to sneak into the woods for sustenance, I needed to do so for sanity even more. A little, illicit escape from everything I was suddenly supposed to be would be a trophy by itself, and for that I needed Gale too.

/

Finally, I am waiting for him.

The rock is colder now and the blackberry bushes bare. My hands are empty and heart is too full and broken and leaking, all at once. A lot has happened. I have almost eaten a different kind of berry, and I haven't shot a boy who'd given me bread at a direr time, and that turned out to be my only saving grace. I've hunted and been hunted, humans and by humans, and the ghosts of  _how different it is_  are still lingering under my skin.

Hopefully, nothing else does.

I squeeze my forearm compulsively for a millionth time, but while the whole thing feels extra smooth and slightly artificial, I can't feel any extra bump under the surface that would indicate the presence of the arena tracker. That doesn't put me entirely at ease, though. As a victor, I should be over it and through it, but all I have is hollow guilt and strained heartstrings, and a certainty I'm in too deep, much more acute than I when I'd been just a girl from the Seam.

The mess has just started, and I hardly ever feel whole enough to face it.

Gale would understand a lot but wouldn't, couldn't understand everything, and it is actually good that way. He'd understood who I was before, and reclaiming him would be reclaiming a shard of who I'd been, a shard of home that existed only in us. I may need him less now but I want him more.

And he's not showing up.

I stare into the distance, into the freedom I can no longer think of reaching, and then at the ground. Dead leaves are swirling in the crisp wind, melting before my eyes into spirals of fake, rotting gold. The sun is still pale and low above the horizon. Gale's not very late yet, but I'm impatient. Tears sting my eyes, a mix of sadness and desperate anger at the possibility he might miss the first chance to meet me.

/

I sense him before I see him. Gale's presence in a place where I meet nobody else, and where I can still want us to belong together, simply fades into my consciousness.

He's standing a few feet away, grim and wary, just watching me. Too much of that lately, and it can't be enough, not when it can be helped. He doesn't step closer, but when I rise on shaky legs, he opens his arms at once. Leaving the choice to me. Again.

I don't hesitate.

Barely seeing him through salt-caked lashes, I fumble my way there and cling to him, dreading the moment when I'll have to let go again. Even as much as to look into his eyes. Neither of us says a word, Gale presses us so close we can hardly breathe, but our chests still heave almost in unison, a sob of relief from me, a breath of  _"Catnip?"_  from him. Whispered and uncertain, a bit like the first time I'd said my name to him.

"Yeah," I mutter into his chest. It's not an entirely true answer to all the questions loaded into the old nickname, it can't be anymore, but I  _want it to be_ , so much. "I'm back here."

"You're back," he confirms, lips skimming my hair, and lightly sways me in his arms. "Back to me too?"

Gently pushing against his chest, I loosen the embrace until we are almost at arm's length, but my fingers still curl in his shirt, drawn to his fast heartbeat. Before, he'd held my hand to his heart and told me I'm already there… and I couldn't have been reaped out … just like that. I couldn't stand the idea.

I also know Gale hadn't been torn out of mine, whatever the rest of the country might think. It's fuller than it used to be, but there's still room, more than I'd thought possible.

"Here, yes. If you still want me."

Gale grits his teeth audibly, but the touch of his fingers on my cheek is as light as butterfly wings. "I'm sorry if I've made you doubt it."

I let him tilt my chin up and shake my head. "Don't be. I am sorry too… for many things, and maybe I should be for many more. But let's forget it now." There's a lot to say but it's too complicated; and I've come here to escape it all. Not to think of the games and the arena, of the threats that came after, not even to think of Peeta. He'll have to understand I won't really be myself without Gale, just like Gale will have to accept there's something I share only with Peeta.

Right now, though, this is only between Gale and me, and I'd rather touch him than talk. Touch every inch of him, to reclaim my territory, to dig my nails into his skin as if I could find traces of my old self there.

My fingers curl tighter in his shirt and Gale reflexively steps closer, arms snaring my waist, lips brushing my forehead.

"So you still-"

"Shhh," I breathe and tilt my head up, covering his lips with mine. Gale takes over the kiss at once, one hand coming up to curl possessively around the back of my neck. I let him coax my mouth open; I don't even know if I still taste the same but he devours me anyway, wet kisses sliding over my lips, along my jaw, down my throat.

We disconnect only for seconds at a time, discarding clothes and gasping for breath.

My skin feels soft and new; Gale's touch doesn't - I can tell he still hardly believes he can feel me again, and grips me as if I were to vanish if left unattended for a mere second. I welcome his frantic, desperate passion, and instinctively return it. Gale's body is familiar, untouched by the Capitol but not entirely unaltered – his palms are rougher than ever with fresh pickaxe- calluses, and steely knots of sore muscle shift under my fingers as I roam his shoulders and back. He draws a sharp breath when I touch him too roughly, but I don't care all that much, and obviously neither does he.

Nothing would stop us now.

First time, I'd climbed him, buoyed by water and we stood, stubbornly, ephemerally connected, while the stream flowed around us, carrying all our essences away. Now I let him lay me down and nail me to the hard ground, press me into the drying grass and dying flowers. The scent of autumn earth, pungent with a slight hint of decay, is heavy in my head, and Gale's body is heavy on top of mine, but bursting with life.

I draw him in, my legs possessively winding around his waist, ankles crossing against the overcast sky glaring down on us. Every cloud looks a bit like the Capitol seal and I want to block them out, tugging Gale's face closer until our foreheads almost touch.

In his eyes, everything burns, and I hold onto the fire, the tingle of my nerves and the hum of my boiling blood drowning out everything else. We are balanced on the edge of release for what feels like an eternity, but still ends too soon. I writhe under him as Gale finishes us both with his uncannily deft hands, pearly fluids safely sinking from my spread thighs onto the earth.

That's where we belong and that's where we fall together, breathless and dirty and fleetingly content. Salvaged, but not saved, because  _we_  have turned from criminals to a crime, and won't ever have more than stolen moments.

/

"Next Sunday?"

"Yeah."

/

Later, we dress silently, and I rise to leave first, with sweet aches in my body and a bitter ache in my heart. A few petals of crushed daisies have stuck in my messy braid.

I can feel Gale's gaze still on me, slanting from under furrowed brows, but I don't look back.

Not until the next time.

Sometimes, even the best hunters have to return home empty-handed.

(But there's always plenty back in the woods.)


End file.
